Rosie James - Lexi’s War - A heart-warming wartime saga to bring hope and happiness in 2018

‘Oh Lexi,’ she said, ‘it is so lovely to have you here again, my dear! Thanks to you, I don’t have such an early start in the mornings, and I’m also able to have a hot dinner and a bit of a rest at midday.’ She tutted. ‘I really should not have waited this long before seeking more permanent help, but after my sister died I felt it was my duty to keep the business going exactly as she would have wanted. It had always been just the two of us, you see. We bought the shop together many years ago, long before you were born, Lexi – and I haven’t felt able to bring a stranger in, if you know what I mean.’

Lexi nodded. She had never seen anyone else behind the counter of the well-known sweet shop.

‘But for some reason you have never felt like a stranger, Lexi,’ Jean Lewis went on. ‘You have always been one of our regular customers, of course, but from the moment you came in to buy that Christmas present for your mother I felt I knew you, I felt I knew the sort of person you were. The sort of person who I could get along with … perhaps like the daughter I never had.’ The owner looked away for a moment. ‘Neither my sister nor I ever married, so no sons or daughters for us, I’m afraid,’ she added.

Lexi sensed Miss Lewis’s sadness and said quickly, ‘Well, I loved being here last year, and am enjoying every single moment of working for you now, Miss Lewis. I’ll be very happy to help with stock-taking again, any evening you would like me to, and the time just flies when I’m behind the counter.’

Jean Lewis nodded. ‘That’s because we see so many different customers, isn’t it? We soon get to know the ones we hope will call on us again, and those who are more difficult to please. But you got the hang of things straightaway and have an excellent attitude Lexi … which is essential in the business world.’ The owner raised one eyebrow. ‘And you are far quicker adding up than I am! When we’re doing a count I find it hard to keep up with you and your young brain!’

Lexi smiled happily. ‘I love figure work and have never found it difficult.’ She paused, then said, ‘One day, Miss Lewis, I am going to have a business of my own because I want to make enough money to buy us a house, a really nice house. For my mother and my sister and brother.’ There was a brief silence before Lexi went on slowly. ‘You see, my father can’t help because he’s not often at home – his work takes him away all the time. So – I’ve decided that it’s up to me to earn all I can as soon as possible and working for you, here, is the start of that long climb up the ladder to succeed in my aim.’

Miss Lewis’s eyes softened at Lexi’s enthusiasm and obvious loyalty to her family. She knew very little about the girl’s background but was only too aware that there were plenty of absent fathers who left their work-weary wives to shoulder the parental burden. She touched Lexi’s shoulder.

‘Well, if I am any judge of character, Lexi, I am sure you will succeed in whatever you do. Any employer will be extremely fortunate to have you on their books, and if I have one word of advice it’s that you continue to have faith in yourself, faith in your ability. Hold your head up high, and be proud. If you believe in yourself, others will believe in you.’

Just then, as Lexi was preparing to leave, the door opened and a large man entered. Removing his trilby hat, he came forward.

‘Good morning Miss Lewis!’ he exclaimed heartily, ‘And can I have 4 oz of my usual Capstan, please?’

‘Of course, and good morning Councillor Larson,’ Jean Lewis replied, reaching up for the tobacco.

As Lexi moved towards the door to leave, the man frowned suddenly and put a hand out to stop her. ‘Just a moment,’ he said. ‘I know you, young lady, don’t I?’

‘I’m sorry?’ Lexi faltered. She’d never seen him before.

‘ You are the girl with the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard!’ the man went on. ‘You sang carols outside The Star, a couple of Christmases ago, didn’t you? And I have never forgotten it! Tell me that you’re still singing!’

Lexi smiled, relieved. She’d wondered what was coming! ‘Oh yes – I still like to sing,’ she said shyly.

Now Jean Lewis broke in. ‘Of course you are right, Mr Larson,’ she said brightly. ‘This is Lexi Martin, the young lady who sang carols that morning … which she did so that she could buy her mother a present she’d seen here in the window! And I remember, very well, how soon afterwards you came in to the shop for your tobacco and couldn’t stop telling me how this delightful young girl’s voice had enchanted everyone!’

Feeling almost overcome with embarrassment by all the compliments, Lexi opened the door to leave. Mr Larson stopped her a second time, looking down at her.

‘The town needs a young, talented singer like you, Miss Martin,’ he said. ‘We are looking for fresh, youthful performers to entertain our visitors at the Pump Room as they enjoy their refreshments – and in my opinion you may very well be exactly who we are looking for!’

Lexi’s mouth almost dropped in amazement. Was he talking about her?

‘Oh Lexi – how wonderful!’ Jean Lewis broke in enthusiastically. She turned to the man. ‘And how should Lexi go about this, Mr Larson?’

‘She should go down to the Guildhall, any morning after ten o’clock, and ask to speak to the entertainments manager,’ Mr Larson said. ‘Tell them that I have recommended you should have an audition – take some songs with you because the pianist may well be around at the same time but if he isn’t, arrangements can be made for later.’ He smiled at Lexi. ‘If you are accepted – which I am sure you will be – you will be paid a fee, of course. Not a fortune, naturally,’ he added cheerfully, ‘but enough to make all your efforts worthwhile.’

Eventually, Lexi was able to leave the shop, and began to make her way home, her head buzzing as if a thousand bees had flown in. Had that just happened? Or had she dreamed it? Had she, Lexi Martin, been invited to audition at Bath’s prestigious Pump Room? She’d never thought she’d step over the threshold in her life, let alone to possibly perform before people of rank!

Lexi stopped in her tracks for a moment. Could this be the next little bit of her big plan? Because if she was chosen to sing, she would be paid a fee, so the Councillor had said …

She bit her lip as she walked on slowly, making up her mind that for now, the only soul she would tell about this would be Johnny … Johnny would be amazed, and excited for her. But she certainly would not mention it to her mother, because Lexi knew very well the reaction she’d get.

In Cecilia’s opinion, her daughter was still a child, far too young to be assuming any financial responsibility. There was plenty of time for all that.

Chapter Two

Later that night, Cecilia paused on her way upstairs to peep into the bedroom which her children shared. Going over quietly, she gazed down. Lexi and Phoebe slept in the one bigger bed, while Joe was still in his cot, his thumb in his mouth, as usual. Cecilia drew in a long, deep breath. They were her sole reason for being alive.

Just then, Lexi stirred, smiling and muttering something in her sleep. What was she dreaming about, Cecilia wondered, this precious little girl, who’d arrived six weeks early? The very first glimpse Cecilia had had of her tiny one had been enough to convince her that she’d delivered a princess. Someone just as lovely to look at as Princess Alexandra of Denmark, wife of the wretched man who had become King Edward VII, that drunken, womanizing monarch now thankfully departed this life.

And what had that dear little foreign princess ever done to deserve such a fate, marrying him at the tender age of sixteen? But as far as anyone knew, and from all the pictures in the newspapers, Alexandra, known as Alix, had always remained as lovely as ever, and truly faithful to her undeserving husband. And Cecilia had known almost at once that her baby was going to be called Alexandra as a sort of act of loyalty to the uncomplaining queen. But rather than Alix, Cecilia’s little giirl would always be known as Lexi, a short, sweet, and simple name.